


You Make This All Go Away

by Tennyo



Series: In Dreams [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 9x18 coda, Anal Sex, Angst, Bottom Dean, Dreamwalking, Dubiously Dubcon?, First Kiss, Frottage, M/M, Top Castiel, semi-canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-22
Updated: 2014-04-22
Packaged: 2018-01-20 08:57:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1504439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tennyo/pseuds/Tennyo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>9x18 Coda<br/>Dean just wants to sleep, but Cas wants to talk about the Mark of Cain. In a way, they both get what they want. And more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Make This All Go Away

**Author's Note:**

  * For [coldrottingtrees](https://archiveofourown.org/users/coldrottingtrees/gifts).



> Thanks to MollyC for being my beta-reader.  
> And Special Thanks to every fanfic writer I have ever left kudos for, or commented on. It's because of your inspiration I was able to finally pop my Destiel cherry.  
> I gifted this to Coldrottingtrees because you inspired me dig out all my NIN albums. I hope you don't hate it!  
> If someone needs a tag added, please let me know.

_Sinking into memory foam, clothes discarded on the floor._   
_The clink of a glass against teeth, the burn of bourbon down a tired throat._   
_Headphones rest against ears, push play and sound fills the empty spaces._   
_Weary eyes close, and the slow sink into oblivion begins._

He jerks awake in the dark, a presence in the room. He relaxes when a voice reaches his ears:

“Hello Dean.”

His hand unwraps from around the knife he keeps under his pillow. When the bedside lamp turns on, he can see the angel standing at the foot of his bed. The new trenchcoat is still jarring in its difference after seeing him for years in the other, and the old, backwards tie is missed. The intense blue stare of the angel bears down on him, and he knows what’s coming.

“Not now, Cas. I’m not in the mood for one of your lectures right now. I need my four hours.”

Dean rolls over onto his stomach, determined to ignore the presence in his room. Castiel continues to stare at him, and the eyes seem to bore into the back of his head. He rolls back over, throwing the spare pillow at what he hopes is the angel’s head. Castiel catches it easily, looking down at the bunched fabric and fluff in his hand before tossing it onto the chair near the foot of the bed.

“We need to talk, Dean.”

 _Of course he wants to talk,_ Dean thinks, _And of course it has to be right now, while I’m comfortable in my bed wearing nothing but my underwear underneath the covers._ With a wave of his hand toward the chair Cas threw the pillow onto, Dean sits up.

“Make yourself comfortable, have a seat, come on in, you’re not disturbing me or anything,” he says sarcastically while bunching the sheets around his hips. Castiel just continues to stare. _Fuck this, I need a drink._ He reaches for the glass on his nightstand, a finger of amber liquid still in it. Before his fingers even brush across it, the damn angel pulls it away, resting it on a dresser Dean can’t reach unless he decides to crawl out of bed. In nothing but his underwear. In front of Cas.

“Dammit, Cas, you’re not even gonna let me have some fortification for this?” His eyes lock on the angel's and he gives back as hard a glare as he receives.

“I need you to be clear-headed for our discussion.”

He mumbles, “Then you shoulda waited until fricking morning.” Rolling his eyes breaks the staring contest and Dean flops his hands on the bed in exasperation. Unfortunately, the motion made the angel’s focus shift to the mark on Dean’s forearm. When he notices the shift in attention, Dean reflexively covers it with his other hand and looks away. _Son of a bitch, he’s not gonna make me feel guilty for this._ Castiel gently grasps his wrist and pulls the arm straight, brushing away the hand covering the mark.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” Castiel says firmly. Dean tries to yank away, but his grip is unyielding. “And don’t say it’s a means to an end, I want to make sure you understand just what you’ve done to yourself, Dean.”

The angel’s eyes soften as they look over the scowl on the man’s face. Dean’s clenching his jaw, a hot, simmering anger bubbling inside of him.

“It’s the Mark of fucking Cain, Cas, the only thing that can take down Abaddon. I met the Big Daddy himself and he refused to come out of retirement, so I agreed to take it.”

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Castiel sighs and looks down at the mark, fingers hovering over the red, raised flesh, but not touching.

“Did he tell you the consequences of accepting this? The cost?” he says softly.

Dean shrugs. “Yeah, he was going to, but I was kinda more interested in, you know, ganking the bitch, so I didn’t stay to find out.” He can already feel some of the changes, the fury deep within, the itch to pick up the blade and kill. Of course, it had intensified when that creepy bastard Magnus shoved the blade right into his hand, awakening the dark urges that came with wielding it. But he just needs to finish this, kill Abaddon, and then Crowley. He doesn’t want to admit he’s beginning to scare himself, of what he’s starting to be, feeling part of himself begin to change. When he looks up into Cas’ eyes, he sees the soft look and interprets it as pity, and it makes the bubbling anger burn hotter, rise up into his chest.

“So it’s a fucking curse, and I’m gonna what, end up in Hell? Again? At this point I don’t care, because we can’t let her win.” He sneers, “And I certainly don’t need your pity.”

Castiel’s surprise allows Dean to break free of his grip. “Dean, where is the blade?”

With a scowl, Dean crosses his arms and glares straight ahead. “Frigging Crowley snatched it from us, said we’d get to use it when we find Abaddon.” He points a finger at the angel, “But don’t think I’m not gonna kill that sonuvabitch as soon as I put her down.”

Castiel looks down at his own hand, fisted in the bedspread, frustration in his expression and posture. “You realize,” the angel says softly, not looking up, “that what you’ve done, it’s irreversible and there’s nothing I can do, that any of us can do when…”

“When what, Cas? When I turn evil? You gonna have to lock me in a cage like Lucifer?”

The shock and surprise on the angel’s face are lost to Dean as he decides he’s had enough, screw modesty, and he throws back the covers to get out and reclaim his drink, perhaps find the bottle.

“I think we’ve talked enough, so get the fuck out of my room so I can drink myself to sleep.”

Castiel is now standing as well, facing Dean and not yielding. Dean’s jaw twitches with annoyance. He just wants to go make this damn angel leave so he can go back to sleep. Why does the fucker insist on having discussions about shit at the ass-end of the night? He tries to shove the angel back, but Castiel grabs his wrists, holding the hands to his chest.

“Dean, I know what it’s like, to do things you know you shouldn’t, to put yourself on the line to do what you think is the only way.”

 _Oh, the fucker is not going to pull this shit on me._ “Yeah, Cas, I remember. Working with Crowley? All those souls you took in that made you think you were God? Going kablooey because of the Leviathan?” His tone is venomous, the rage burbling up his throat as he tries to wrest himself from Castiel’s grip. “You wouldn’t listen to me then, so why should I listen to you now?”

Castiel spins, pinning the man between himself and the dresser. Dan lets out a surprised whoosh and stills, noticing the tight line of Castiel’s mouth, his brows drawn down over narrowed eyes. Flashes of the beatdowns he’d received from the angel spin through his mind, make him shudder minutely.

“Dammit, Dean. I still had a chance to stop what I was doing then. But now, now…”

The angel searches his face before dropping his forehead to the man’s shoulder, taking a deep breath. Dean can feel a slight tremor in the angel’s body and it’s magnified in the hands that still hold him in place. _What the hell?_ He wiggles his shoulder, trying to get Cas to raise his head. When Castiel’s eyes once again meet his, they’re wide open, and if he didn’t know any better, he’d say he looked… scared?

The angel’s eyes search his face, chapped lips parted, and then he says, “I can’t lose you, Dean, not this way.” Dean’s head rocks back in confusion, and before he can even think of a response, Cas is kissing him. _Kissing him!_ Dean can feel the dig of the dresser in his back, the creases of the trenchcoat and shirt his hands are fisted around, Cas’ firm body pressed against him from knee to chest, and those lips… Cas’ lips are soft and full, and pressing desperately against his.

Dean stops leaning back away from it and pushes back, positioning his head for better purchase as he feels the heat of his anger start to transform into a different warmth that begins to settle low in his stomach. All thought flies from his head, and when his tongue darts out to moisten their lips, Cas’ mouth opens, and Dean’s is flooded with the taste of angel. The sharp tang of ozone layered with the sweet taste of a summer afternoon fills his mouth as he licks his way inside.

Cas releases Dean’s hands and clings to his shoulders, tasting his own way into Dean’s mouth. The only things circling through Dean’s mind are _more_ and _want_ , and he releases his grip on the angel to smooth his hands down the crisp white shirt and around Cas’ waist, under the coat, bringing one hand up between his shoulderblades. Both are making little sounds of pleasure, and Dean has to pull away because breathing through his nose just isn’t enough anymore. As he sucks down much needed oxygen, his mind clears a bit from the haze and he looks at the angel before him.

Cas’ lips are swollen and pink, slick with spit and parted so that Dean can feel little panting breaths warm on his face. His face is flushed, with hooded eyes dark and unfocused from the pleasure of their kissing. His whole body is relaxed, pressing against Dean’s and shoulders sagging. Dean freezes as his brain kicks back in, realizing he’s been KISSING CAS and still has his arms wrapped around him. Warring emotions of excitement and freaking out make him stiffen as Cas tries to tug him back down for more kissing.

“Uh, Cas?” he whispers.

At the sound of Dean’s voice, Castiel’s eyes focus, and he straightens up just a bit from the slouch the kissing had relaxed him into. Unfortunately, due to their bodies being pressed against each other, Dean realizes that Cas is hard as his erection grazes his thigh. It also doesn’t help that the friction makes him realize he’s sporting wood, too. He tries to blame it on the recent lack of action he’s been getting, not his own attraction to the angel.

“Yes, Dean?” The already low and gravelly voice is even deeper and comes out a little breathy, and Dean’s mind almost derails again when those blue eyes lock onto his own.

Dean’s hands slip from around Cas and grasp his shoulders, pushing him away at arm’s length.

“Um, I don’t think we should be doing this… uh, well…” He desperately tries looking anywhere but at the angel.

“Dean.” Cas’ firm and sharp tone drags his eyes back, and they lock onto the blue depths. “You and I have known each other for over five years. Over that time, I have learned more about humans than I have in any of my previous existence. And I am ancient. All angels were supposed to love humanity, but ever since raising you from perdition, my love for you has been different than my love for anyone and anything else. At the time, I thought it was due to our bond, but as I got to know you, I realized it was different. After being cast from Heaven as a human, I learned so many more variations on the emotion, but my love for you has always been strongest. When you turned me away from the bunker was when I learned the meaning of heartbreak.” Dean opens his mouth to say something, but a raised hand from Cas silences him.

“I know I have not always been what you’ve needed me to be, and I have made mistakes, failed you, abused and broken your trust. I’ve done terrible things, even taken another angel’s grace. But every time, we make our way back to each other. For no reason I can fathom, I have been resurrected thrice and you had Gadreel bring me back for a fourth. I do not expect any more miracles after this Grace burns out.”

Dean’s mind trips over that last sentence, after being stunned by the rest of the confession. “Wait, what? You’re saying that the borrowed Grace isn’t going to work like your own?” Castiel nods. “But won’t you just become human again?”

The angel’s eyes break contact, and his feet shuffle as he looks to the floor. “What I have done has never been done before, Dean. It’s not supposed to happen. Metatron even offered me ‘recharges’ -he uses finger quotes- if I agreed to go along with his plan.” When Castiel eyes meet Dean’s again, there is fear and sadness in them. “When this Grace burns out, I will burn out with it, and I will cease to exist, the same as if I have been stabbed with an angel blade.”

Dean’s thoughts stumble over each other, with a pang in his heart that is almost overwhelming, and then he says, “Then we’ll just get you more Grace, the way Metadouche said he would do for you.”

Oh, Dean, no,” Cas says softly, a palm pressed to Dean’s cheek. “How do you think Metatron would get those recharges? I can’t let him do what he did to me to anyone else, or have you do it either.”

Dean rests his own palm on Cas’ against his cheek, and he searches the angel's eyes with his own, seeing the anguish reflected there. “I can’t just let you go out like that without even trying, Cas.” His voice comes out as a harsh whisper.

“And how do you think I feel, knowing you’ve condemned yourself, Dean? I know you already feel the changes the Mark has begun to make on you. It will only get worse and harder to control. It will be worse than if Michael had taken you as a vessel, because you will think you are in control.”

Dean feels a lump in his throat, overcome by emotions for his angel he had thought were buried. In a hoarse whisper, he says, “I had to do _something_ , Cas.”

“I know,” Castiel says with compassion, “That is why even though you have done something monumentally stupid, I forgive you.”

Dean huffs and says, “Well, next time before I do something stupid I’ll make sure it’s something stupid we can all agree on.*”

Castiel’s eyes widen and a small smile graces his lips. “I understood that reference.”

“You really need to tell me how you can suddenly understand them, Cas.” Dean says with a wide grin.

With a shake of his head, Castiel responds, “It’s not important.” He takes both of Dean’s hands in his, “What is important is that you understand how I feel, because…” He pauses and swallows, anxiety returning to his eyes, “Before I burn out, I want to be with you, to _know_ you, Dean.”

The tone of his voice and the earnest yearning in his eyes as he says that makes Dean blush, and he babbles, “Well, uh, considering you put me back together after Hell, I guess you already know me better than anyone-”

“Biblically, Dean.”

“Uh,” Dean’s brain short circuits, as every secret fantasy he’d had about the angel surfaces at the connotation. “But we’re, um, we’re both…”

“I am indifferent to sexual orientation.” Dean merely gapes at him dumbly. “Of course, I don’t mean to pressure you. I shouldn’t have assumed…” His face falls and his shoulders curl in with a defeated look.

“Wait…” Dean grabs his arm before he can turn around and vanish. “We don’t have to go all-out right away, let’s just… um…” He casts about for something, anything. “Let’s just sit for now, okay? Maybe talk more?”

“Alright.”

The small relieved smile that Cas gives fills Dean with relief. When he pulls away from the dresser, he feels the cool air where he’d been pressed up against wood, and suddenly remembers he’s only wearing a pair of boxer-briefs. After telling Cas to get comfortable and take off his trenchcoat, Dean rushes to put on his robe. half-remembered fantasies of what he’d imagined doing to Cas on that bed are threatening to make him hard, and he doesn’t want to ruin whatever is forming between them.

With his robe tied in place, he turns to find Castiel standing with his trenchcoat folded over his arm. “Gimme that.” He grabs the discarded pillow from the chair and  drapes the coat over the arm. Then he straightens his bed for them to sit. When they’re both seated next to each other with knees touching, they remain silent for a moment. Dean’s fiddling with the tie of his robe and Cas merely stares at him patiently, hands relaxed in his lap. Dean clears his throat.

“So, um…” _Wow, so eloquent there, Winchester. How the hell can Cas make me feel like a fricking teenager?_ Thinking of the things he has done as a teen makes him blush.

“Dean.”

That makes him jump, and he turns to look at the brilliantly blue eyes studying him. “Yeah, Cas?”

“May I,” his eyes flick to his lips, “May I kiss you again?”

With a slow exhale, he responds, “Yeah, sure.” _Kissing’s good, kissing’s safe._

Castiel leans in, one hand cupping Dean's cheek. “Did you know that kissing can be used as a greeting, as well as a symbol of fidelity, or trust?” He shakes his head. Cas tilts his head to press his lips gently to the man’s forehead. “Religiously, it can be given as a benediction.” He kisses a cheek. “It can be a sign or friendship,” and he stops to look Dean in the eyes, “Or it can be a symbol of affection, attraction and love.”

He pulls Dean in, pressing mouths together, lips closed. Dean’s eyes flutter closed, and Castiel takes his time, pressing gentle kisses across his lips. These kisses relax Dean, and he settles in with a sigh. As if on cue, Cas flicks his tongue gently across the seam of Dean’s lips. He opens willingly, and greets the tongue with his own. Once again, his senses are filled with the taste of the air after a storm, and sun-kissed afternoons. He could immerse himself in this feeling, the way that Cas fills him to bursting and leaves him gasping.

He doesn’t even realize they’re lying down until he feels Cas’ body press flush against him. They’re on their sides, and Dean’s hands have made their way around to Cas’ back again. One of Cas’ hands is still on his face, and the other is  gripping the lapel of his robe. Warm fingers stroke the edge of his ear, and he smiles into the kiss. Cas pulls away, and Dean chases his mouth. The angel pushes him onto his back, and he watches as he’s kissed on the chin and along his jaw, hands skimming under the robe across his chest. He realizes that throughout everything, the once-messy hair he had grown accustomed to is neatly combed. _Well, I guess the lack of flying means it’s not getting messed up all the time._ And just because he can, he runs his fingers through the thick locks making it stick up in the way he had always found endearing.

Cas finds an extra sensitive spot just under the hinge of his jaw right at the same time a fingertip brushes a nipple. Dean jerks, something between a yelp and a whimper escaping his lips. Cas pulls away to look down at him, “Did I do something wrong?” _Oh, dear lord no._ “You, uh, kinda hit a good spot, two at once actually.” With a smirk, the angel thinks to what he had been doing. Then he brushes his fingers across the nipple again, watching Dean’s breath catch at the sensation. Then, he leans down and presses his lips to that sensitive area of his jaw, and gets a sigh. When he performs both at once, Dean’s expecting it, and the act elicits a growling moan.

This exploration is finding too many hot buttons at once, and he’s already half-hard. Before Cas can continue, Dean presses his ear to his shoulder, blocking Cas’ explorations. Tilting his head to catch the angel’s mouth with his own, he rolls them over so he’s the one looking down. When he releases his lips, he’s rewarded to the sight of Cas licking his lips, eyes wide and dark, a flush running down his neck.

“Time for me to find some of your good spots now.”

With the efficiency of one who has had much practice, he discovers Cas’ ears are ticklish, and the dip in between the collarbone and shoulder right at the base of the neck makes him squirm. Cas’ nipples are less sensitive, but that’s alright because Cas likes having his lips touched. Not just kisses, but fingers, too. Dean just barely avoids pushing a finger into that hot mouth to watch his angel suck on the digit, because that would take this screaming towards the realm of _Jesus,_ I want that mouth on my cock _right now._ Just the thought makes the interested party in question twitch, and he’s really trying to keep that guy out of the conversation for now. _No need to rush this, just breathe._

Dean begins nibbling a collarbone and undoing the buttons of Cas’ shirt. When his mouth makes it to the angel’s solar plexus, a roll of the hips presses a firm reminder that Cas’ body is male up against his stomach. Feeling his own interest twitch and swell, He pauses, forehead pressed to the firm, muscular chest under him to rein back in his instinctual reaction to rut against his leg, or the bed, or anything. Angling back up for a kiss on the mouth, he’s surprised when Cas hooks a leg and flips them back around so that he’s back on top,  hips grinding together.

Dean releases a strangled moan before his lips are overtaken by a hungry mouth, licking and sucking like a starving man for whom Dean’s mouth is his first meal.  With a yank of the tie-belt, Dean’s robe falls open, and Cas’ hands are everywhere his body isn’t pressed. Stunned by the fervent urgency that has overcome the angel, he slides his hands to that trouser-clad ass, kneading the flesh and feeling muscles clench as the mindless grinding continues. Head filled with vulgar swearing, he can feel their clothed cocks rub together and it’s enough to make him see stars with the intensity.

With a jerk, Dean pulls the open shirt down Cas’ shoulders, and while the angel is otherwise occupied with getting it past his hands, his mouth attaches to that spot he’d found earlier, sucking and biting at the dip in flesh. One hand buried in those dark locks guides his head to the side so Dean can continue up the golden skinned column of throat. He can both hear and feel the rumbling response to his actions. A small warning bell in the back of his mind reminds him this is going too fast, and Dean tries to pull Cas back.

“Hey, hey Cas-” He’s interrupted with a hard press of mouths and teeth, and he can taste blood. “Shit, wait Cas!” He manages, with effort, to pull the angel’s lips away from his, and if he wasn’t trying to calm things down, he would have pulled that face back into his. He’d never seen Cas this way. Lips dark and puffy, skin flushed, eyes hooded and so dark he can barely make out any blue in them. His eyebrows are drawn together in an attempt to regain control. He’s panting, and the breath is warm and sweet against Dean’s face. _Fuck, how am I supposed to be the one in control here?_ With a deep breath to try to calm the heat he’s feeling himself, he tries to reason with the angel.

“Cas, look. We should really slow down here. We’ve got time, and I’m not going anywhere.”

He’s not sure how he manages it, but the stern face Cas gives him is just as hot as the panting mess he was seconds before.

“You may have time, but I don’t, Dean.” A hand reaches to press against the stiff length trapped in his underwear, causing a shuddered breath and Dean to clench his teeth. “I’m supposed to help those of us who refuse to follow Metatron, and I don’t know how to be a proper leader. I don’t know how long my Grace will last, and I don’t want to come by one day and see you completely overcome by the Mark.” He searches Dean’s  face while he speaks. “I’ve waited long enough, and I know you want me too, so for once, I will not be held back from what I want.” The last words are spoken with force, managing to turn Dean on even more. Cas pries Dean’s hands from his head, and presses them to the mattress, before rejoining their mouths.

Dean’s always liked it when his partners took control, but the thought that the angel could easily break him in half nearly undoes him. He’s reduced to trembling with need under Cas’ body, barely conscious beyond the feel of their mouths and tongues, their bodies pressed together, and their hips grinding wantonly.  None of his fantasies compare to having the actual angel wanting and desperate on top of him.

Cas shifts his mouth down along Dean’s jaw, sucking and nibbling down his neck and chest. Pausing to lick and bite a nipple elicits a sharp gasp and arched back. Dean is helpless to do anything but to grind up against him. But Castiel releases his hands, and keeps traveling south, palms pressed against his writhing abdomen, finding spots that are ticklish and ones that make him burn even hotter. When his mouth reaches the top edge of Dean’s underwear, he lowers his head and nuzzles the hard cock straining for release, hot breath seeping through the fabric. This is when Dean realizes he’s been grasping handfuls of bedding and releases his grip on the fabric to dig into Cas’ hair. _Fuck yes please don't stop more_ chant through Dean’s mind, and when Cas pulls the restricting clothing down his hips, he nearly has an aneurysm. He chances a look, watching his leaking cock bob against his belly as Cas tosses his underwear to the floor.

Cas looks back up into his eyes with a look so feral, he can’t help but shudder, watching as the powerful angel crawls back up to his hips, looks down and licks a stripe along the underside of his cock from base to tip. Going cross-eyed doesn’t help him watch, so he lets his head flop back on the bed. The tongue licking between his head and foreskin has him arching off the bed and _whimpering._

Coming back from the dead rehymenated had included having that ring of skin around the tip of his cock renewed, and he’d practically had to relearn how to have sex, due to the sensitivity of an uncut head. Most women he’d gotten with since weren’t familiar with what to do when faced with it, and so Dean had to deal with fewer blowjobs than he had been accustomed to. He surely wasn’t ready to feel Cas’ tongue curl around the edge of his head. He nearly chokes at the sensation.

Pulling off with a pop, Cas licks and kisses down to the base, where he then explores Dean’s balls with his tongue. Pushing his thighs wide and massaging the insides with his thumbs, Cas nuzzles, licks, blows on and suckles at Dean’s sac until he thinks he’s going to scream. But when he leans over and bites the juncture between groin and thigh, Dean does scream. Profanities fly from his lips, fingers digging tighter into Cas’ hair. “Goddamn cocksucking motherfucker sonuvabitch wanna fuck you like an animal _FUCK,_ ” He’s allowed to pull Cas back to his mouth and he can taste his own musky flavor on the angel’s tongue.

Reaching for Cas’ slacks, he fumbles at the belt. Without releasing mouths, they both manage to unzip the pants and get them and the boxers yanked down Cas’ thighs, and with the help of Dean’s legs and feet the fabric flops off the end of the bed. When their uncovered cocks touch, Dean doesn’t care that Cas is between his thighs, only wraps his legs around his angel, pressing and grinding them together. It’s not until a shift of the hips causes a cock to slide between his ass cheeks that he gets where this is headed. _Whoa, whoa, this is definitely not part of my fantasies._ He tries to disengage from the angel, especially when the head of his cock bumps against his puckered hole.

“Cas, wait, hey, h-EY! Wait!”

Cas is now breathing heavily, and it seems to take a lot of concentration to keep from grinding down against Dean. “Dean, I want... NEED to be inside of you, _please-_ ” He places his head on Dean’s shoulder, almost vibrating with holding back.

“Hey, look at me,” when he has Cas’s eyes on him, he continues. “I’m not like a woman, you can’t just shove it in. You gotta prep first.” Thinking about how long it’s been since anything but the occasional finger’s been up in there, it might need a lot of prep. And of course, here he is, without any proper lube for something like this. He knows, if this is what Cas wants to do, there’s no stopping him, but he can at least make it less uncomfortable for himself. He tries not to think about how he learned so much about doing this particular act while thinking madly if there’s anything at hand they can use. _Ah!_

“Cas, you gotta let me up, I need to get something.” They disengage enough for Dean to go rummaging through the nightstand. He has dry feet in the winter, and they crack if he doesn’t keep them moisturized. After locating the jar of thick cream he keeps for that, he plops down on the bed, ready to explain. But Cas cuts him off, reaching for the jar.

“My apologies, Dean. In my… urgency, I neglected this step.”

 _What?!? When did Cas learn about how to do this?!?_ Nope, he really doesn’t want to know. But he can’t help sitting there with his mouth hanging wide open and swallowing thickly.

Cas presses a soft kiss to his lips before asking softly, “Do you want to lay on your back or stomach?”

Dean just squeaks, eyes bugging out of his head. Cas ponders for a moment, before saying, “Perhaps we should do… yes, that would be best.” Then deftly flips Dean over onto his stomach before hauling his hips into the air. Wriggling a bit to get comfortable, he feels Cas’ hands caressing his thighs, ass and lower back.

“You are so beautiful, Dean.”

Having that announced to his ass makes him suddenly embarrassed, and he buries his face in a pillow. _Ha, em-bare-assed,_ he thinks before he feels a warm mouth press kisses at the base of his spine, and knuckles dragging lightly along the underside of his balls. He melts at the touch, and tries to relax. He can hear the jar’s lid being removed, and the wet sounds of cream being spread on fingers. Jerking at the first touch against his anus, he relaxes when it’s just slow circular motions, spreading the cream. Cas presses an open-mouthed, wet kiss on an ass cheek when the first finger presses in. It was enough to keep him from clenching upon entry, but he forces himself to stay relaxed.

One hand caresses his back and thighs, that warm, wet mouth leaves trails all over his rear, as the finger gently sinks deeper. When it’s in past the second knuckle, he can feel a thumb massage the outside as the digit slides slowly in and out, twisting. Knuckles brush against his balls when the second finger joins the first, and he can feel the stretch, but he’s relaxed enough it doesn’t burn like he expected. Yeah, it’s tight, but Cas is being so gentle, he can’t even resent how he learned to do this.

When both fingers are fully inserted, Dean thinks this might not be so bad, and that’s when Cas finds his prostate. Hips jerking, he lets out a wail. Another brush of fingertips has his cock back at full attention, and Dean’s backing into the fingers. This is how he doesn’t even notice the third finger until it’s already halfway inside. Fingers digging into the pillow, Dean stretches out like a cat, bucking onto Cas’ fingers as every stroke brushes that damn glorious spot that makes him want to come all over the fucking bed.

Cas is draped against his back, having kissed his way back up while opening Dean up with his fingers. His hard length presses against his hip, and he has been whispering endearments and praise in multiple languages into his ear. Just when he’s about to beg for mercy, Cas pulls his fingers out, leaving him empty. Cas resettles between his legs, and he can feel the moistened head of Cas’ cock push against him. Gulping, he realizes this is it, and tries to stay relaxed, and Cas’ hand keep soothing along his back and thighs. When the head pushes in, it feels _so much damn bigger_ that his fingers, but he stops and allows Dean to adjust before pushing the rest of the way in slowly. Dean can’t remember a time when he’s ever felt so _full,_ but soon small guiding motions rock him back and forth, and the first time he feels the edge of Cas’ cock brush his prostate, he’s growling and shoving back against his hips harder.

An iron grip prevents him from moving, and he’s shaking with the need to rock back, when he hears Cas grate out, “I... Dean, I want… I need to kiss you.” And Dean could not tell you how he ends up on his back, but he’s glad, because he wraps both legs and arms around his angel. When their lips meet, they begin rocking together again, and this time it is more electrifying, because he can feel Cas’ stomach rub against his leaking cock.

Time seems to both stretch and compress, with the sensations being too much all at once but yet not enough. He can feel the pressure building up inside, with each electric spark he receives during each thrust. Their kisses become sloppy and more about closeness and sharing breath than making out. One hand is buried in Cas’ hair and the other is digging into an ass cheek below his legs which stay tightly wrapped around his angel’s waist.

When their grinding reaches a crescendo of urgency, he desperately pants into Cas’ mouth to be touched, and he obliges, reaching between them to grasp Dean’s painfully hard cock. He comes almost immediately, gasping through a strangled moan and spasming around Cas. A couple of thrusts later and Cas comes growling Dean’s name. He collapses in his arms, and they lie there panting, sweat cooling on their skin.

Dean presses kisses to Cas’ temple and strokes fingers lightly down his back, enjoying the post-coital snuggle, not even minding his weight pressed fully against him, or the come trapped between their bodies. After breathing has returned to normal for both of them, Cas raises onto his elbows and looks at Dean with wonder.

With a small smile, Dean asks, “What’s up, Cas?”

Castiel takes a moment before replying, “I had no idea it could feel like… I thought I understood when I was human but… It was so much _more._ ”

Dean boops the end of Cas’ nose, “Way to stroke my ego there, buddy, but yeah, that was… Wow.”

With a satisfied smile, Cas snuggles into the crook of Dean’s neck, and they match their breathing as Dean slowly drifts to sleep.

\--------------------

He wakes up the next morning without headache or cramp, completely rested and relaxed. Reaching out, he half expects his angel to still be in bed with him, but he finds his MP3 player and headphones instead. With a frown, he feels around, and realizes he’s still in his underwear, an enormous load of dried jizz making the fabric caked and stiff. Looking over to his nightstand he sees his unfinished bourbon exactly where he had set it before going to sleep. “You gotta be shitting me,” he says to the empty room, because it’s completely unfair to have the best sex of his freaking life in a goddamn dream. Wait, could Cas still dreamwalk? Is that what this was? How the hell is he supposed to ask a freaking _angel_ if they just dream-banged?

He sits up in bed, and adjusts his crusty underwear uncomfortably. “Uh, hey Cas… If you got a minute, do you mind calling me and maybe answering a couple of questions?”

A moment later, his phone rings and he answers it to hear, “Hello Dean,” The satisfied smile coming through clearly in his voice. “What were you dreaming about?”

**Author's Note:**

> * Genie, from Disney’s Aladdin
> 
> Title is a line from Nine Inch Nail’s [_"Something I Can Never Have"_](http://youtu.be/OaKqSR22EcU). There are other references to NIN songs throughout, as Dean was listening to them while he fell asleep. I wanted to include that implicitly in this, but I couldn’t find a way to add it and make it look organic.
> 
> NOTE:  
> If you don't live in the United States: It has been common practice in the U.S. since the end of World War 2 to have male babies circumcised at birth. It's my headcanon that Cas "healed" it back. For Reasons.


End file.
